ASC Galaxy Captain's Mess
February 1, 2506
2000 Hours GST-Z
ASC Galaxy's senior staff occupied the table. Harrigan sat at the head of the table. To his right were Commander McKenzie, Lieutenant Commander Brooking, and Second Lieutenant Irena Bartok. To his left sat Commander Oliver "Tommy" Thomas, Lieutenant Commander Paul Lexington, Lieutenant Dwight "Ike" Riley, Lieutenant Yassir Abdul-Sharek, and, at the far end beside him, Commander Dr. Jennifer Lasiter, the CMO.
Harrigan noted how easily the officers talked before dinner and through the course of roast beef, roasted potatoes, carrots, and onions. When dessert arrived, a rich chocolate cake, the conversation never stalled. The group, save for two, seemed to enjoy themselves. Dr. Lasiter remained polite but reserved, speaking when spoken to but never starting a conversation. Lieutenant Abdul-Sharek, the Astrogation Officer, sat beside her, quiet and awkward, occasionally forcing a laugh that came half a second too late. He tried to fit in but could not quite manage it. He's holding something back, Harrigan thought. I'll file that away for later.
Perhaps Dr. Lasiter's restraint resulted from the policies and treatment under Captain Betancourt. She was not the same woman who had bantered with him at lunch. I need her to come out of her shell. She's delightful, and this crew and these officers will love her, he thought.
"You know, my mum used to say there are two kinds o' people in Brum: those who say, 'I'll do it later,' and those who never do it at all. I joined the Corps just to prove her wrong. Now I get paid to say 'later' in five different sectors," Brooking said, flashing a devil-may-care smile.
McKenzie groaned, Irena laughed, and even Dr. Lasiter chuckled. Abdul-Sharek smiled nervously, glancing at the others as if making sure he was laughing at the right time. Brooking had that British wit and charm that could warm any room.
The laughter faded, replaced by the gentle clink of utensils and low conversation. Harrigan sat up straight and tapped his glass with his fork. All eyes at the table centered on him. He liked that they came to him so quickly. That kind of alert precision was going to be needed over the next few weeks as the ship and new crew got to know each other.
"You know, tonight is important. If you look at that wall over there, it is glass for a reason. The crew can see us in here. Yes, it is the captain's mess, but we as officers will eat here three to four times a week. I like to conduct staff meetings over dinner or lunch. People are more at ease over food, not to mention we can get two essentials done at once."
The table of officers chuckled. He was not wrong.
"When the crew looks over here, they see us, their command team, breaking bread together. Despite our differences throughout the workday, we are unified here, together. The crew will use our example. There is a reason Astro Corps designs the mess this way. I think it is one of our unique and enduring traditions."
Harrigan sat back and took a drink of his iced tea.
"Captain, will we eat with the crew when we are not here?" Bartok asked, unsure whether this was a legitimate question.
Harrigan looked at her and smiled reassuringly. "Miss Bartok, if we are not in here, yes, we will be in there. I also want you to eat once a week with the Beta and Gamma shifts. Even if you are just getting a cup of coffee while they are at mess, they need to know we are accessible to them. Beta and Gamma shifters often feel forgotten by command staff. We will not let that happen here."
Dr. Lasiter looked up at that last statement. Did he intend for her to do the same? Her crew's duty rotations were unique to the infirmary. Her personnel kept ten-hour shifts with two hours of overlap between them. She did not want to challenge the captain publicly. Of course, she would accommodate him. She asked, "Sir, does this include the officers of the medical staff taking a meal period with the other shifts?"
"No, Doctor. Your teams already overlap for two hours. You will all get to know each other. Your crew rotations will do the job. Not to mention I want my medical staff doing their best work in their area and keeping my crew healthy and alive."
She noticed how disarming his smile was. He's still a captain, Lasiter, and this is the honeymoon period, she thought.
He had, however, read her reports, specifically her crew rotation plans. That was more attention to the med staff than Betancourt had ever paid. Betancourt only noticed the medical staff when he browbeat doctors into releasing patients back to duty early, or when they made mistakes. Harrigan seemed different, but time would be the accurate judge of the captain.
"Now, vessel readiness. I would like to launch in the earliest window tomorrow. We will start with medical. Doctor Lasiter?"
Dr. Lasiter felt surprised. He was asking her about launch readiness first? She took a drink of her tea and readied her datapad. Why was she suddenly flustered? She had prepared for this; she just had not expected to be picked first.
"Sorry, sir, I wasn't expecting to go first."
"Got put on the spot? I am sorry, Doctor, I did not mean to do that to you. I just figured since the medical staff have been here the longest, you would have the best reports." He smiled.
Was he setting her up to look stupid? She looked into his eyes. She could feel the earnestness.
"We are fully stocked and loaded, sir. The infirmary is ready for anything. We are go for launch. I will need everyone to stop by and give some vials of blood for storage, so we can clone blood cells or organs if needed."
"Thank you, Doctor. Lieutenant Commander Brooking?"
"We are calibrated, and the digi-beam systems are sorted. We are ready to launch."
"Commander Thomas?"
"We are ready to go, sir. All engines, sublight and vortex, are ready. Fusion reactors are running at optimum efficiency. Those shakedown boys and girls tuned her good. She is ready to go for launch, sir."
"Lieutenant Abdul-Sharek?"
He blinked, straightened his posture, and cleared his throat. "Astrogation systems are aligned and verified, sir. Stellar fix data from Jupiter and the outer beacons have been updated. We are green across the board."
There was the slightest tremor in his voice. Harrigan caught it, and so did McKenzie. The XO glanced up but said nothing. He is competent, Harrigan thought, but there is something beneath the surface.
Harrigan nodded and made notes with a stylus on his datapad. McKenzie shifted his eyes to see the pad and caught a glimpse that Harrigan was checking his meeting agenda. McKenzie liked that the captain was thorough. They were the easiest ones to please.
"Lieutenant Bartok?"
"Operations is ready, sir. Damage control teams have received their assignments and are drilling for effectiveness."
She beamed with pride, seeing looks of surprise on the officers' faces that she had already run readiness drills. Harrigan smiled, and he nodded to Dr. Lasiter, touching his temple with his right forefinger. Dr. Lasiter nodded and gently smiled.
"XO, you will have a battle drill ready for us tomorrow? I plan after launch to get us some time on the Ganymede firing range."
"Very good, sir, I will have a drill ready."
"Good. One last thing. I intend to run this ship by the book. I want you to push your people and get the best out of them." Heads nodded around the table. Agreement seemed unanimous.
"However, we have all had senior officers who pushed but were not giving the same effort they were asking for from the crew. If you are going to push the crew, be willing to give more effort than you are asking. We lead by example on Galaxy. Now go get a good night's sleep and be ready for the morning. Launch day is upon us."
The senior staff clapped at the launch day announcement, a minor Astro Corps tradition. How it started, no one knew, but it was a tradition.
Harrigan watched as the senior staff left the captain's mess, most of them mingling, talking, and joking as they headed for the lift and the crew decks. All except two. Dr. Lasiter and Lieutenant Yassir Abdul-Sharek kept quiet and to themselves as they left. She moved gracefully, not unfriendly, but not eager to speak to those she did not know yet. He lingered a moment, adjusted his collar, and glanced back toward the table, as if he wanted to make sure he had left nothing behind. Both of them will come around, Harrigan thought. In time, they all will. Tomorrow, we launch.
ASC Galaxy Command Center
February 2, 2506
0800 Hours GST-Z
People felt and heard the hum of the engines throughout the ship. Harrigan sat at his command station, flanked by McKenzie at the XO station. The consoles of the command center chirped, hummed, and beeped. The rhythmic sounds were music to Harrigan's ears. Only this time, he was taking it in from the center seat.
"Comms, signal Io Shipyard Control and request departure vectors."
"Aye, Captain. Io Control, this is Galaxy requesting departure angles for launch."
"Io Control to Galaxy. Your vector is Y negative one-two-six, Z up angle six-six after push-back. Two minutes to reroute traffic, stand by."
"Copy, Io Control. Galaxy standing by."
"Mr. Lexington, positional thrusters to station keeping."
"Aye, Captain. Positional thrusters for station keeping."
"Ms. Bartok, clear all umbilical supports and retract airlocks."
"Aye, Captain. Clearing umbilical supports and retracting all airlocks."
Metallic thumps echoed throughout the ship as the airlock tunnels retracted back into the hull. A sharp hiss followed as the umbilical supports detached and withdrew into Io Shipyard's berth assemblies.
"Io Control to Galaxy. Dock traffic clear. Galaxy, Io Control clears you for departure on your mark."
"Io Control, copy. Departing on Captain Harrigan's mark," Brooking replied. Hearing him say it made Harrigan feel the weight of command. It was his mark now. This mighty cruiser, the newest in the fleet, was under his total control. That weight was heavy, but it was one he had waited years to carry.
"Mr. Lexington, push back from station with maneuvering thrusters at one-quarter port speed."
Harrigan felt his heart skip a beat as he gave the order.
The positional thrusters fired in rhythmic bursts to propel the ship away from the berthing bay inch by inch until she cleared the dock's shadow. Once free of the station's perimeter, she drifted on inertial glide until the forward sensors registered space.
"We are free of the berthing bay and optimized for positional maneuvering, Captain."
"Thank you, Mr. Lexington. Go to full one-quarter sublight once we have cleared the outer markers, Mr. Abdul-Sharek. Design a course for the Ganymede Range but swing us around Jupiter and come through the back door."
"Aye, Captain. Course set to swing around Jupiter and come through the back door."
"We have cleared the outer markers," Bartok reported from operations.
"Helm, one-quarter sublight burn for Ganymede. Astrogation, bring us to seventy-five thousand klicks from the range floor."
"Aye, Captain," Lexington and Abdul-Sharek said in unison.
Galaxy sped up away from Io, her drive pods flaring blue white as she began her long arc around Jupiter. She would approach Ganymede from the far side, using the planet's bulk to mask her entry. Harrigan watched the gas giant's storm bands roll past the forward viewport, their shifting colors reflected in the glass.
This would be their first battle stations drill under his command, and Ganymede Range Control would not make it easy. They would throw everything they had at Galaxy. Harrigan's crew would have to match it volley for volley.
He leaned back slightly in his chair, calm and focused. The test ahead would tell him exactly how ready this crew was to work together.
The trip around Jupiter took fifteen minutes in total. By the time the crew aligned the vectors and the ship slowed for Ganymede approach, they had already shifted into the drill mindset. Once Harrigan aligned the ship, he issued his orders to McKenzie.
"Mac, battle stations readiness drill."
"Aye, sir."
"Battle stations, battle stations. Set condition one throughout the ship. Set condition one throughout the ship." The AI's voice rolled through the decks. McKenzie's change to the alert status monitor activated the alarm. Alpha shift would man primary battle stations. Beta shift would man damage control teams, while Gamma shift ran security.
"Mr. Riley, activate the telemetry guided rounds, proton bays, and port broadside. Pulse cannons set to signature."
"Aye, sir. TGRs auto-loading now. Pulse cannons set to signature."
"Closing to seventy-five thousand klicks from range surface," Lexington reported.
Harrigan clipped his com set into place and patched into the Ganymede Range uplink. He would vector their target drones and coordinate recovery windows.
"Ganymede Range, this is Galaxy. We are running battle stations readiness drills. Port broadside loaded with TGRs, proton profile. Starboard broadside missile launchers on standard. Pulse cannons set to signature."
"Ganymede Range to Galaxy. Do you want us to use proton missile targeting drones for live ordnance?"
"Negative, Ganymede. Keep it to the TGRs today." Harrigan let out a quick breath of amusement. The specialists at Ganymede always wanted an excuse to lob something live. They were the pyromaniacs of the Astro Corps.
"Understood, Galaxy. Start targeting run in forty-five seconds."
"Forty-five seconds, mark," Harrigan replied.
"Stand by for combat burn across the range field. Chief Okafor hold shield levels at eighty-six percent through engagement. Specialist Malok, enable AI assist on point-defense channels."
"Aye, Captain," both men answered in unison. The sound of Malok's voice made Harrigan start for a moment. Serving in close quarters with a Dekorat was new to him. The large feline was a presence, and the console in front of him hummed with quiet, efficient competence.
"Ready to run. Execute." Harrigan sat up and switched to his tactical display. This was a surprise run simulation, which meant Ganymede would throw a lot at them fast. The range punished complacency and rewarded sharp hands. Harrigan watched the tracks bloom on the scope and felt, for the first time since he took the chair, the familiar surge that came with testing a crew in earnest.
If they handle this, they will handle worse.
The simulated engagement began the instant the targeting run started. The TGRs launched cleanly, streaking away from Galaxy's port broadside in white blurs. Each one emitted its telemetry pulse on detonation, and range control computers registered near-perfect impact probabilities. The forward pulse cannons tracked and fired in signature mode, energy bursts flashing harmlessly across Ganymede's simulated shield field.
"Hits confirmed on drones one through three," Chief Nguyen reported, a small grin touching the corner of his mouth.
"Point defense tracking clean," Malok added, his claws tapping against the console.
"Shield modulation steady at eighty-six percent," Okafor followed, his calm tone a counterpoint to the low hum of the battle grid.
So far, it was a textbook run.
Then the AI chimed a sharp tone. "Simulated hit registered. Port-forward point-defense emitter array disabled."
Riley's eyes flicked toward Malok. "Compensate with starboard array and reroute targeting."
"I am attempting," Malok growled softly. "Control interface is slow to respond. All port-side point defense has failed, cascade failure in the system."
"What? That should not happen, not from a simulated hit," Riley said, confusion edging his voice.
"Shield strength dropping to seventy-three percent," Okafor called out.
The range fired another simulated volley, dozens of drones converging from the lower vector. The command center lights dimmed briefly as the computers processed simultaneous impacts.
"Point defense two is offline. Auto shut-off per simulation," the AI reported.
"Override the simulation limits," McKenzie snapped. "We can still plot returns manually."
"Negative, sir," Bartok said quickly. "Regulations prohibit override during a certified range drill."
Harrigan's voice cut through the noise. "Steady as she goes. Maintain forward burn. Ride the field."
Galaxy shuddered as more hits registered. Simulated debris alerts cascaded across the tactical display.
"Shield strength now sixty percent," Okafor said tightly.
"Calculated damage is high," Bartok added. "Damage control teams not reporting in on time."
"Understood," Harrigan replied. "Keep her moving. We cross the field."
The ship cleared the far boundary seconds later. The range AI signaled completion of the exercise.
"Simulation ended," the computer announced. "Final assessment pending. Shield grid at sixty percent efficiency. Defensive response latency: fourteen seconds."
McKenzie tore his headset off and slammed it down on the console. "Fourteen seconds? The entire defense team's failure to compensate blew the score!"
Okafor stiffened at his station. Malok's ears flattened, but he said nothing.
Harrigan turned slowly in his chair, his voice calm but edged with command authority. "Commander, enough." He let the silence linger a moment, then spoke evenly. "If we cannot anticipate or react to changing situations fast enough our shipmates die, or worse yet, we lose the ship. That is why we drill."
McKenzie exhaled and nodded once. "Aye, sir."
Harrigan rose. "Secure from simulation. All hands stand down from battle stations. Set condition two throughout the ship."
The AI repeated the order. "Set condition two throughout the ship. Set condition two throughout the ship. All sections return to standard readiness." The alert lighting shifted from crimson to amber, then to soft white as normal operations resumed.
Harrigan waited for the systems to stabilize, then spoke. "Lieutenant Bartok, you have the conn."
Bartok stood and acknowledged crisply. "Aye, Captain, I have the conn. You are relieved."
"I am relieved."
The AI gave its confirmation chime. "Command transfer from Captain John Harrigan to Second Lieutenant Irena Bartok, zero eight forty-six hours GST-Z."
Harrigan turned toward McKenzie. "Commander, my office."
The two officers left the command center together, the heavy doors sliding shut behind them.
No one spoke as the captain and XO disappeared. The hum of the engines filled the silence, steady and accusing. Riley adjusted his headset. Okafor checked his console again, expression grim. Malok's tail flicked once, then stilled.
Bartok looked around the room, her voice steady. "Resume standard operations. Maintain course at holding vector until further notice."
As the crew returned to their stations, one unspoken question hung in the air.
What was the captain going to say to Mac in his office?